


to devour & consume

by OverMyFreckledBody



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Blood and Gore, Cannibalistic Thoughts, Experimental Style, Ginger Snaps inspired, M/M, OOC, Self-Indulgent, Werewolf Dipper Pines, but thats just what lycanthropy does to ya babe!, cannibalism thought of as erotic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-03
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:14:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27866705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/pseuds/OverMyFreckledBody
Summary: "If I wasn't here... would you eat him?"[Or, freshly changed werewolf Dipper struggles so much with not eating his kill that he doesn't even notice the guy's not actually dead.]
Relationships: Bill Cipher/Dipper Pines
Comments: 6
Kudos: 59





	to devour & consume

**Author's Note:**

> uhhh... yeah, so we all know how I am at this point, I assume. idk what it is about 2020 but every other fandom I wrote for was fluff. Gravity Falls gets all my weird shit
> 
> anyway, so this is completely different from [my werewolf!bill au](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27297319). don't worry, I'm still working on dipper's pov, it's just gotten wayyyy longer than expected and I needed to get this one out of my system. 
> 
> based off [that ginger snaps scene](https://uspiria.tumblr.com/post/189814127877/ginger-snaps-2000-dir-john-fawcett), because i just rewatched the movie again and i still love it

He doesn’t think about it when he reaches forward and brushes away the few strands of Bill’s hair that are still in his face. They’re darkened with his blood and clump together but move along easy enough with Dipper’s gentle pressure. He strokes down the clean side of Bill’s face, following the path of the hair. The blood in it is tacky enough now not to leave much of a trace. He wets his lips. He wonders how it would…

“If I wasn’t here,” Mabel starts from behind him, beside him, he doesn’t know. Her voice is barely more than a whisper, but he hears it perfectly. Of course he does. “Would you eat him?”

She sounds scared.

More scared than when he killed Bill. More scared than the fight. More scared than when she was begging him to stop.

“No,” he blurts back immediately, but it’s too quick. Or maybe it’s just fast enough. Just enough for it to seem as if said in disgust. Seem genuine. The disgust he wants to feel, the disgust he _should_ feel. Maybe it’s enough to cover the saliva that floods his mouth at the thought.

Even as he doesn’t look at her, he shakes his head, eyes still trained on the paling face before him. “God,” his voice is breathless, more start-stop-stuttery than before. Unsure. He hopes she doesn’t question it. “That would be like…”

He trails off.

God, it would –

“Like…?” Mabel presses in the absence of his explanation. Finally, he looks at her, chest involuntarily heaving a deep breath. But when he takes another one in, the smell is still so strong in his nostrils. Dipper turns away again. He can’t face her. Not like this. Not with Bill here, before him, willing and ready and _dead_.

He’s always wanted Bill dead, but now that he has him, but he can’t _have him_ –

_God_ , it _would_ –

He forces another exhale through his nose, trying, trying desperately to rid himself of the thoughts. It aches. It aches so much and for Bill. Just for Bill. Just for him like this, like now.

He wants him. He wants him so bad he can taste it.

But that might also just be the tang of metals and blood and cloying, sweet death in the air.

The silence stretches on, Mabel clearly waiting on an answer. God. _Don’t make me say it_ , he thinks, the words almost on his tongue. They war with the answer, what she wants to hear – and he always does what she wants. She’s his sister. What else can he do?

She doesn’t tell him to give in, but she doesn’t have to. He hears her shuffle in place, still not saying a word, and he can’t take it anymore.

“It’d be like sex, okay?” He concedes, and he can’t look at her. He can’t. He stares instead at Bill’s body again. He drinks in the glassy eyes, the drip drip _dripping_ from his slashed in throat. He looks so beautiful cut open like this. Dipper almost wonders how he didn’t do it to him before. How he never appreciated anything like this before.

Maybe it’s the wolf.

But maybe it’s Bill.

Dipper licks his lips again.

The skin is so red and pink where it’s torn. Blood seeps from the edges, just asking to be drank up. He knows it would be the most delectable thing, sliding down his throat. It’s still so warm, too. Hot, wet, delicious. He wants to taste again. He didn’t get to focus on it before, too busy fighting, too busy letting the adrenaline guide him. What a waste.

If he had the chance now, the _if I weren’t here_ a reality, he would take his time. He would give Bill all the time and attention and tasting he _deserves_.

Oh, how Dipper wants to put his tongue to that throat. How he wants to sink his teeth into it. How he wants to tug at the edges until it exposes everything he wants. He wants to see it. Taste it. Consume it. He wants to swallow Bill whole, blood and body and all.

It really is like sex.

And he really wants it.

“It’d be messed up,” Dipper tacks on, after a really long (much, much too long) pause. He has to get himself together. They have to bury him tonight. He can’t have him. He has to put him in the ground.

He still doesn’t look at Mabel. He has to get a grip. He watches the blood drip and drip. Will it ever stop? He hopes not.

He can’t have it. But he hopes it never stops.

“More messed up than killing a guy and burying him in an unmarked, shallow grave?” Mabel asks, a little too sardonic in the face of their (of his) crime. It catches Dipper by surprise and makes him laugh.

He laughs. And laughs. And laughs. And it’s a hysterical kind of sound, a broken sound, and he covers his face, blood smearing further, matting his hair. He doesn’t care. He knows he’ll just lick it all off later. He’ll savor it when she isn’t looking.

It’s this thought that that both sends him spiraling again and grounds him. He’ll taste again. It will be later. After.

After, after.

“Yeah, Mabes,” he chokes out, barely getting the words between shuttered breaths. Finally, he is able to close his eyes, block out the tempting sight before him. “Much worse.”

* * *

When he discovers that someone is outside (and Mabel is still asleep, everyone is still asleep, everyone but Dipper, who listens to the pounding of their hearts, a steady, steady rhythm that keeps him sated), this is not what he expects. Who he expects. What.

It, they, the stranger, the person, the scent –

The scent is familiar. But everyone is asleep in the house (and their heartbeats are normal and steady and so is Dipper).

He steps onto the porch, and the figure, the scent, steps into view, still in the yard.

Bill.

_Bill_.

But how?

In the dark of the night, it is Bill, covered in dark grave dirt and rusted, flaking blood. He smells familiar and delicious and dirty. He is without a wound in sight, but Dipper knows what should be there. He has every bite, every scratch, every puncture, every tear memorized from going over that death over and over in his mind.

So, so much more exhilarating than the neighborhood animals. Not comparable. Even if he didn’t get to truly taste.

Taste. He wants to –

“Hiya, Pine Tree,” comes Bill’s nonchalant greeting, as if he hasn’t just come back from the dead to stalk Dipper again. But he grins, in that same way he always has, and his teeth are sharp, in that way that they never were. “Bet you didn’t think you’d see me again.”

He didn’t. He really, really didn’t.

Dipper says nothing, because… he didn’t. Words come to his head, however. They do not leave his mouth. Words like the obvious, _You’re not dead._ Like, _I killed you_. Like, _I almost ate you_.

_I should have eaten you_ , Dipper thinks. The thought is stronger than the rest. He doesn’t immediately brush it aside like he should, and it buries itself in his brain. He should have eaten him. This conversation, this whatever, this would never be happening if he had eaten Bill.

“Did ya miss me?”

Dipper’s mouth waters. He swallows.

_Yes._

**Author's Note:**

> i don't think that's what ginger meant


End file.
